


Of Rope Swings and Rope Burns

by SabbyStarlight



Series: Cold Open Challenge 2020! [5]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Cold Open Challenge, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mac Whump, Whump, s02e07 Duct Tape+Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: Day five of the Cold Open Challenge!2x07 Duct Tape+Jack"And if he was getting tired of crazy mid-air exits?  Mac most definitely was."
Series: Cold Open Challenge 2020! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818619
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	Of Rope Swings and Rope Burns

**Author's Note:**

> "Did you just make a Tarzan swing?"   
> "Technically it's a rope pendulum made using fisherman knots..."   
> "Yeah, yeah, whatever, can I call it a Tarzan swing?" 

It was a dramatic escape, swinging out of the tree their parachutes had landed in, yelling all the way, but it wasn't exactly effective. The rope could only swing them so far. Land on another tree, hopefully without crashing into it too hard, or swing until the ropes ran out. Jack chose the first option, slamming into the trunk of a tree he was getting ready to pass with a branch just low enough for him to drop onto. The impact didn't quite knock the breath out of his lungs, just cut off his gleeful scream with a huff, so he reached out to steady himself with one hand braced on the rough bark of the tree trunk as he made sure his footing was stable enough to pull out his tac knife and begin cutting through the ropes above him. A quick turn of his head and he saw his partner, a few trees over, doing the same. A flash of red visible between the leaves from the SAK in his hand and Jack smiled.

Mac was far enough away that Jack didn't notice him wincing as he climbed down the tree.

Once they were both on the ground a silent conversation was shared with a quick moment of eye contact and a tilt of Jack's head towards the thickening forest and away from the barely-there road their pursuers had driven in on. Mac nodded, picking up on the plan and following the older man in a jog through the rough terrain. They stayed close enough to the treeline that they could hear the Jeep start up behind them and take off, following the road in the direction they were running. It was a testament to their years of partnership the way they both turned simultaniously and headed back in the direction they had just left, hoping the men chasing them were inexperienced enough wrongfully assume they would continue to try and outrun them instead of following their tire tracks back into town.

"You good?" Jack asked after doing a basic search of the clearing and seeing no obvious threats.

"Yeah," Mac nodded and the single syllable revealed the tremor in his voice that Jack was sure he had been hoping to disguise.

"You sure?" He took step closer, frown drawing deeper at the obvious lie but giving Mac another chance to offer up the truth on his own. "You're lookin' a little pale."

"We need to get out of here," Mac turned his back towards his partner to hide the wince as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Before they decide to come back."

"We can hear 'em coming in that Jeep, give us plenty time to duck back into the woods," Jack protested, jogging forward a few steps to catch up with Mac, stopping him and spinning him around with a hand on his shoulder. "Now slow down and tell me what's got you all rattled."

"Not all of us get an adrenaline rush from jumping out of a plane," Mac offered with a sigh. "You know that's never going to be my preferred exit plan. But it was the only way out, and we made it. I'm back on the ground, and I'm fine. Let's go."

Jack did know, of course, how much Mac hated heights. He had watched the kid stare down the barrel of a gun without flinching and sit down in front of a bomb with only minutes left on the clock as casually as if he were relaxing in his own living room. Mac was unphased by those sort of things, events that would leave normal people traumatized, but while it was a rare occurrence, Jack had seen him afraid. He would watch, unable to help, as much as he would try, as those familiar blue eyes would grow haunted, flitting between a wide-eyed, panicked stare, between needing to know what to expect and slamming closed, trying to block out the rest of the world. No matter how many times their line of work put them in the position of needing to go hurtling through the sky, which was more than either of them, Mac in particular, would prefer, he was never able to fully prepare for it. To get his racing heart to calm until his feet were firmly planted back on the Earth instead of falling down towards it.

Jack tried to help, but there really wasn't much he could do other than offer up a reassuring grin and a joke to try and give Mac's mind, which would go spinning into overdrive every time, something other than fear to lock onto. It was why he had begun making lame Tarzan jokes as soon as he realized that the second phase of Mac's exit plan was to go swinging, still far too high above solid ground, through the trees. It wasn't his best work, not by a long shot, and there was a portion of his mind that was regretting not going with a George of the Jungle themed distraction instead as he was flying through the air yet again in far too short a time frame.

And if he was getting tired of crazy mid-air exits? Mac most definitely was.

Something else was wrong though. Jack could tell. Everyone always joked about his Spidey Senses, himself included, but it was more than a weird feeling. He had spent years learning Mac's tells, some of which he was fairly certain Mac himself wasn't even aware of. Just like Mac's improvising was more than just luck, Jack's instincts were more than a mere gut feeling. It was a skill, and if teasing him about it was all it took to keep everyone from noticing just how much work went into keeping an eye on Mac, Jack would happily encourage it. But now was not one of those times.

"Mac," Jack took care to keep his voice low, not quite pleading, not yet, but he wasn't opposed to resorting to that if he couldn't get Mac to tell him what was wrong. "C'mon, buddy. I know something's up and I can't do my job, not right, if you don't tell me what's botherin' you. This is more than just bein' a little shook up about flying through the sky twice in twenty minutes."

"You'll-" Mac began but Jack cut him off.

"I won't be mad," He promised. "You know me better than that, Mac. Not at you. Please?"

With a heavy sigh Mac slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets, only the left one at first before deciding there was no point in prolonging the inevitable, and held them, palms up, for Jack to see.

There was a flash of anger in Jack's eyes, just as Mac had expected, before focusing in on the tiny strands of fibers embedded in the red, weeping abrasions. Then there was nothing but guilt shining in Jack's brown eyes. Guilt that he wasn't the one hurt, that he hadn't been enough. Strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, good enough. Enough of whatever was needed to keep Mac safe.

"That right there," Mac dropped his hands out of view, moving to cross his arms, to fold into himself, before realizing how bad of an idea that would be, dropping them to his sides instead, injuries out of view. "Is why I wasn't going to say anything until we got to the plane. That look. This isn't your fault and I hate seeing you beat yourself up over my dumb decisions."

"Nothing you do is dumb, Mac," Jack scolded gently. "Not ever, you hear me? And I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel that way. I just hate seein' you hurt. Probably almost as much as you hate me feelin' all guilty over it."

That at least got Mac to crack the tiniest of smiles. A lopsided little upward twist of his lips that eased some of the weight off Jack's chest. "I wasn't going to hide it from you," He ducked his head, voice low as he spoke towards his boots as they scuffed against the grass beneath his feet instead of looking up at Jack. "I really wasn't. Just until we were out of here. It's not like there's anything you can do about it right now anyway."

"Can I at least see?" Jack asked, waiting on Mac to offer up his hands on his own, keeping his own tucked closely to his side, non-threatening and not pressuring. "So I know what we're dealin' with?"

Mac nodded slowly and held his hands out to Jack again, trusting.

The significance of the gesture wasn't lost on Jack as he took a step closer, pausing, giving Mac the chance to change his mind, keeping him in control, before taking another. Carefully cradling the backs of Mac's hands in his own, letting his thumbs sweep across knuckles for a moment, soothing before pulling them closer to inspect. "This is some pretty bad rope burn, buddy," Jack winced in sympathy at the harsh line running across the sensitive skin of each of Mac's palms. There were strands from the nylon ropes, blue and yellow, stuck in the wounds. A harsh contrast of primary colors against the deep red of Mac's skin. Precious blood that had once again found its way to the outside of Jack's kid instead of safely inside where it belonged.

"You gotta be careful with these, Mac," Jack shook his head, staring down at his partner's hands. "They're too important." Idly, he remembered the flash of red from what he had assumed was simply Mac's knife cutting through the ropes and realized that it had been more than the shiny plastic handle he was seeing through the branches obstructing his view.

"How'd you even do this?" Jack asked, shifting his thoughts away from his own failure that was sure to be following him around for weeks and letting go of Mac's hands long enough to spare a quick glance at his own. "I don't have a scratch. That's the whole point of those harnesses, right? So you don't have to hang on that tight?"

"Guess I panicked a little," Mac shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "I know I wasn't actually falling but, I don't know, coming off that jump, it was a little too soon. Held on too tight, nervous, hands started sweating so they kept slipping."

"And you just held on tighter," Jack nodded in understanding. "Probably didn't even notice it was tearin' up your hands until it was too late."

"I really was going to tell you," Mac insisted again. "Not like I could hide it. Or clean them out myself."

"It's gonna hurt," Jack agreed sadly, running a finger across the unmarred skin lining the burns. "Got little pieces of rope all through 'em we’ll have to dig out."

"But there isn't anything we can do about it until we're back on the plane," Mac reminded, pulling his hands out of Jack's grip and masking a wince as the movement pulled on the injuries. "So let's go."

"And you'll really let me patch you up once we're there?" Jack asked, wanting to make sure before giving in.

"I already said I couldn't do it myself," Mac rolled his eyes, smiling at Jack's overprotective hovering.

"Let's just get somewhere safe and we'll deal with it," Jack agreed, slinging an arm over Mac's shoulders as they began the trek back to the plane.

"I'm already safe," Mac smiled, leaning into Jack's arm for a moment, leaning his head against Jack's shoulder for a moment, letting the comfort of that and Jack's arm, warm and steady across his shoulders, distract from the searing hurt in his hands. "I'm with you."

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be a Whumptober chapter already in the works focusing on the patch-up following this particular fic...


End file.
